


The Sound of Idiots Talking

by subducting



Series: No Heaven, No Hell [1]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Drabble, Mirrorverse, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 08:32:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subducting/pseuds/subducting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Senator Pike gets into a mild disagreement in a bar over the subject of one James T Kirk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sound of Idiots Talking

Christopher didn’t care overly for the ridiculous cock-and-bull circus of the Empire’s playpens for it’s rich young murderers, but the bar was the closest thing to the senate. Bubbles exploded across the bar like shrapnel, fizz throwing molten lights through the darkness like falling stars, dotting the skin of a pair of toasting lovers, bending around one another like doves. The elegant room was decorated for the Terran tradition of Christmas, another unnecessary parade that the man was sick to death of, and serving the same purpose under the white strip of lights that illuminated the bar- to impress, to intimidate. The tree was a slender three sided pyramid, glass that was slightly reflective embedded with sharp red points of light that Chris realised formed a star-map of Terran-occupied planets. He snorted into his vintage whiskey- at the very least the thing wasn’t functionally useless, unlike most of the rest of his surroundings. He understood that some of his peers found enjoyment in the game of favours and flattery that played out across the universes most expensive and exclusive venues, but he simply saw it as a means to an end. The only pleasure he took was the power he felt as eyes tracked him into the place, the recognition of his status and the satisfaction of it’s security.

“Jim Kirk?”

And the sound of idiots talking.

“The empire’s whore, isn’t he? There’s a reason the senate keeps him alive and it has more to do with those pretty baby blues than his command skill. No-one that young gets to be captain that fast without a special kinda talent, right?”

There was brash laughter and a merciless expression bled onto the senator’s face, his skull falling into an odd position he was led to believe was called grinning. He put his glass down with a crack like a ringmaster’s whip and turned towards the source of the noise. His stool scraped back as he calmly fixed the man with a stare from one cold eye.

“Interesting hypothesis,” he growled, pulling out his knife deliberately as he stalked towards the idiot, filled with livid insanity. Recognition was pursued through the man’s eyes by fear as his friends skittered away from him. “Senator Pike, sir, I-“ the rest of the sentence was cut off by a strangled gargling noise as Pike’s fingers crushed the man’s windpipe in his fist, drawing the knife along the line of his ungraceful jaw. “I wonder if you think that my chosen successor was an inappropriate choice on my part? Maybe you’d like to discuss my decision with me, son?”

The idiot on the end of his fingertips choked and shook his head frantically, and Chris loosened his grip slightly, the body slumping limp in his grasp. He jerked on the man’s chin and pulled his gaze back, tapping at his own ear with the knife. “Pardon?” he muttered, voice flying low under the music that shrieked through the bar. “No- sir-“ breathed the cadet through his teeth. Senator Pike released his hand and instead kneed the man in the stomach, causing him to double over into the waiting blade. He shuddered and twitched once as the older man jerked his knife upwards, feeling the flesh splitting at the shoulder. Macabre decorations splattered the glossy obsidian floor as a nervous silence fell on the onlookers. The cadet might have been dead- or not, Christopher didn’t especially care. He wiped his weapon against the man’s jacket, red on red, and gave the barman a single disparaging glance.

“Be more careful about the riff-raff you let in here,” he said lightly, before turning heel and loping out into the night.


End file.
